Blue Flower
by flower child 10
Summary: Anna and Étienne enjoy an evening together, reaching territory that they haven't previously explored. Fluff :)


She has a flower in her hair. It's silky and fragile, the baby blue petals brushing against her ear softly, a constant reminder that if she jerks her head too quickly or laughs too vehemently the flower may fall from its precocious position.

So, she walks with her head tilted slightly up and her shoulders stiff; she doesn't want her hair to move as she walks, which too could be a danger to the little flower tucked behind her ear.

Étienne was the one who put it there. They had been in _Le Jardin du Luxembourg_, the Luxembourg Gardens, for most of the day, and as they had exited he had stooped down and snapped the flower away from its blue little friends.

_It's funny_, Anna had thought as he had gently tucked the flower behind her ear, his thumb brushing against her cheek in a way that made her skin tingle deliciously. _The flowers are blue, but they sure aren't sad._

"Beautiful," Étienne had said in a his perfect English accent. Anna had wanted to to wrap his words up and tuck them in her pocket to replay on a rainy day.

She had smiled, twisting her fingers into his. The novelty of doing that, of _touching him_, hadn't worn off yet. It hadn't worn off for him either, and both of their hands felt glowy and warm just from touching.

Anna liked it that way. She liked their skin touching; she liked her hands running through his perfect hair. She liked his hypnotizing voice and his full body french shrugs and the way that he said _zebra__. _She liked Étienne, but even more than that she _loved_ that Étienne loved her. She loved _them._

Now, their hands still clasped and their shoulders brushing against each other as they walk, Anna and Étienne near Résidence Lambert. It's just late enough for them to hear the opera singer's first song of the night, and the sky has a kind of rusty glow to it in the twilight lighting. The street lights flicker on one by one as they walk.

Anna hums lightly and presses her cheek against Étienne's arm. He smells like laundry detergent and something entirely boyish, something entirely _him._ "Home," she says tiredly. They've been out all day. They couldn't resist a chance to trapeze around Paris on such a beautifully memorable day. Most days in Paris in the spring are beautiful, just like Anna heard that they would be, but something about today is even more beautiful, even more memorable. Maybe it's just how few days they have left in Paris, or maybe it's just Anna's mind making the day more beautiful just to create an excuse to spend every moment with Étienne, but it doesn't matter. She's with him, and her insides are warm as they soak up the beauty of Paris, and that's all that matters in this moment.

"I've been home all day," Étienne says softly.

Anna melts.

She says, stuttering slightly in the wake of his remark, "I've been home, _too__, _with you, I just mean that I'm happy to be at a place with a bed _and_ you. Both. Ultra home."

She realizes how her words could be taken too late. He's already laughing, squeezing her hand tighter and grinning brilliantly. "I'm glad to be home, too, then. If that's what home is to you. A place with a bed and me."

Blood rushes to her cheeks. "You suck," she says lamely.

"You're the one who said home is a bed with me in it."

"I didn't say that at all! And you're dragging this out too much. What I said wasn't _that_ _bad," _Anna protests.

"You basically threw yourself at me," Étienne teases.

"I DID NOT."

Étienne pulls open the door to Résidence Lambert, and she steps in, a rush of cool air embracing her.

"Hey! I'm not disagreeing with your definition! _You_ and a bed sounds pretty nice to me," he says, his voice dropping a bit lower at the end.

Anna blushes, looking away as they mount the stairs. They still haven't done _it_. She's asked herself a million times if he meets her criteria, if she wouldn't be embarrassed to tell a hypothetical kid about him, and the answer is always yes. She doesn't really need to ask herself; she loves him, and she would be proud to tell said hypothetical kid about him, but the right time hasn't come yet, and, besides, she doesn't even know if Étienne wants to do it. They've never really talked about it.

She doesn't respond. Her head is swirling too much and her cheeks are too red for her to trust herself to say something coherent.

After a second of silence Étienne wraps his arm around Anna's shoulder. "I was just kidding, Banana," he says quietly.

"I know." She fingers the banana bead resting on her collarbone. She doesn't mean to be sensitive or touchy. It's just been a long day. A great day, but long.

"But, I also sort of wasn't kidding," Étienne says a minute later, when they're just reaching Anna's door.

She freezes, and Étienne rushes to explain. His cheeks are red just like hers, and his words tumble from his mouth quickly. "I mean, what I'm trying to say…"

Anna looks at him expectantly.  
"What I mean is that I love you. And I love touching you, and I love you touching me, and every kiss...god damnit Anna!"

She's grinning up at him devilishly, loving that it's his turn to be embarrassed.

"Do I need to keep going? Are you going to torture me and make me explain further?"

She nods.

"Anna," he grabs one of her hands, gripping it tightly. "When we kiss…I don't want to stop. I don't just want to stop kissing, I don't want to stop _going._ I want to know you and I want you to know me. All of us. And I hope you feel the same, because if you don't then I'm going to look like a bloody stupid bloke, but…."

She stops him with a kiss, pressing her lips firmly against him and moving her hands to rest on his back. His fingers fumble at her neck, and their lips part for a second as he pulls her key necklace off her neck. One of his hands presses flatly against the door, and the other struggles to open the door with the key while still continuing to kiss her.

The door opens a second later, and they tumble in the doorway. He kicks the door shut behind them, taking a hand from Anna's waist to twist the lock shut.

They half lie, half fall, down on the narrow bed. Anna is beneath Étienne, her hair splayed all around her head like a brown halo. Her hands roam up and down his body, one hand clutching at his neck as the other moves through his hair more rapidly than ever before.

He hovers over her, his knees pressing into her hips, and moves one hand down the side of her body. She shivers beneath him, and he smiles through his kiss.

Touching her ignites something inside of him, something wonderful. It's a torturous hunger, but somehow amazing at the same time, the fire igniting his body burning him in the _best way_.

He can't explain what Anna does to him, but he wants to fall into the depths of her existence and never return.

His fingers brush against a sliver of her skin where her shirt has ridden up, and both of them seems suddenly much more aware of what's about to happen.

She takes in a sharp breath. He thinks that's a good thing, but he's not entirely sure.

She grows stiffer beneath him, and their kiss grows slower as if they're now remembering how much time they have.

A feeling bubbles up from somewhere deep in her chest, filling up her ribcage like water filling a glass. She's _scared._ What if she doesn't do it right...what if he doesn't love her after...what if it's awful...what if?

But, before she can delve too deeply into the world of what ifs, Étienne's lips find a way across her cheek, roaming down her neck before coming back up to her ear. "I've never fit with someone like I fit with you," he whispers. His breath tickles her ear, and she bites her lip.

She plans to respond, but before she can, Étienne's lips move down to her collarbone, and his fingers begin to slide under the hem of her shirt, and all words are forgotten, instead replaced with a short groan that slips out of her lips before she can stop it.

She begins to tingle, her cheeks growing warm and her skin beginning to feel more like embers of a fire than skin. Who knew a boy could make her feel so…so in need of _more._

He begins to lean into her more, his body pressed against hers and filling all the unwanted space between them. One of his fingers, not the one still slipping under the hem of her shirt, slides across something soft and silky by her ear. He suddenly remembers the flower he put in her hair, and he pulls back from her lips, his fingers toying with the oval petals.

Anna catches her breath beneath him. Her cheeks are red, and part of her blonde stripe covers her eye. He rests on top of her, his elbows holding the top of his body up. He gently pulls the flower from her hair before holding it up for her to see.

She looks at it with wide eyes, still catching her breath. He can't help but notice how her chest rises and falls so rapidly, and his fingers ache to return to touching her bare skin. To press against her, to feel her body and to feel all of her curves and to _be_ with her.

"Beautiful," he says again, like he did the first time he touched the flower.

"Me, or the flower?" Anna asks from beneath him.

"Both."

She's silent for a second.

"You know that if you don't want to, that we don't have to do this," Étienne says softly. He knows that they began to talk about it before, but she never definitively said yes. And he doesn't want to go any farther if she isn't comfortable.

"I want to. I _want_ to." Anna grins up at Étienne, her eyes wandering across his face. His beautiful face.

"Why?" he can't help but ask. He wants to be sure. He loves her, and he wants to make her happy.

"Because I love you. And," Anna pauses, her eyes finally meeting Étienne's, "because things will never be the same."

His lips crash against hers, and from that second on, they are all fire and lust and passion and the beautiful things that remain when hunger is finally met.

**A/N I would love a review, and thanks for reading!**


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